The Blue-Lipped Lady

 

How I mistook collapse for character.

I told them I’d wait. Didn’t seem urgent. The blood was brown. Not bright. I rang the surgery and said I didn’t mind waiting for a routine. They booked me for March. It was November. That was two years ago. I’d been tired. But everyone’s tired. That’s just being alive now, isn’t it? I'd get home, pour cereal for dinner, and fall asleep in the bath. Cold water. Blue lips. Never once thought “cancer.” Thought: “must buy more bubble bath.”

My boss offered me extra shifts. Said I was dependable. I was. Still am. Never called in sick, not even when I was shitting blood and shaking. I thought: maybe haemorrhoids. Maybe stress. Everyone I know is stressed. I didn’t Google it. Didn’t want the drama. I kept going. Walked slower. Ate less. Swapped soda for tea. Felt virtuous. Then I couldn’t climb stairs without needing a sit. Lost weight. Jeans started slipping off. My cups gaped in shock. Everyone said I looked “well.” I liked the attention. Bought smaller trousers. Threw out the old ones.

The night I passed out in Tesco, I’d only had soup. Carrot and coriander. Half price. I woke up with a cannula in my arm. Curtains pulled. Shoes missing. They kept me in. Did tests. Lost the results. Did them again. Eventually, someone said it was “serious.” Their tone said “inconvenient.” Like I’d bled on the wrong file. I asked how long it had been there. They said probably years. Said if I’d come in sooner, they might’ve… Didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t cry. Didn’t argue. I just thought about the letter in my drawer. The one I never followed up. The appointment I missed because of a double shift. The blood I ignored. The nights I told myself it was nothing. That I couldn’t afford to know. That I'd wait.

I said no to chemo. Said no to surgery. Didn’t want to be carved up. Didn’t want my niece wiping my arse. Didn’t want to live in bed. So now I take iron tablets and pretend it’s helping. I drink Ribena for the placebo effect. I walk in the mornings till I need to sit down.

Sometimes people ask why I didn’t catch it sooner. Why I let it get this bad. I don’t explain. Just say I was on the waitlist. And I never left it.

–––

These stories aren’t rare.
They’re just rarely told early enough.
Most decline begins in silence —
a skipped check-up, a cough you dismiss, a breath you pretend is fine.

She didn’t need saving.
Just a warning sooner.

––– Pause Here –––

If this feels familiar, you’re not alone.
Most illness doesn’t start with a bang.
It starts when silence becomes habit.

Lingzhi isn’t a miracle.
It’s a habit.
A quiet, daily way to care for the body —
before silence becomes suffering.

Lingzhi is a traditional food taken to support general well-being. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease. For personalised advice, please consult a qualified healthcare practitioner.

#SubHealthStories #HealthIsAHabit #HappyHealthyLingzhi